Giving Up
by PrettyinPink33
Summary: SEQUEL TO "I DON'T WANT TO GIVE UP" What happens when the gang reaches its lowest low? As those involved in the horrible tragedy that shook their world are punished, everyone is tested as major secrets are revealed, & souls are broken in ways never thought possible. What will the end be for the people who used to envision endless life together? It's becoming hard not to give up...
1. Get Back to Where You Once Belonged

***DISCLAIMER* I do not own That 70s' Show or it's characters. *longing sigh***

**Rating: T for language and mention of sex/rape.**

**I'm back guys! It's so great to have the sequel for I Don't Want to Give Up up and running.**

**For those of you who have read IDWTGU, welcome back and enjoy. For those of you who haven't, you better go and read it, or this will be mighty confusing for you. (Don't worry, hopefully it will be very enjoyable for you!)**

**Chapter One is named after the song "Get Back" by The Beatles, a claaaasic! **

**This chapter is very short, and it drags on. I get it. You want some action, some more dialogue, some more answers. All with time. I need to have a starting point first. I hope you guys still like it. **

**Voila! Thank you guys for being patient. You are awesome. **

* * *

_Rot in jail_.

This is what Eric Forman's up mind kept ringing throughout his skull as he sat in the Point Place county jail, a place he would have never envisioned he'd be.

He did not look well. The dark circles under his eyes had gone from dark to _woah, dude, you ever heard of sleep? _His hair was long-ish, and he had actually grown some scruff. He almost laughed, thinking of the irony, as he toyed with his facial hair.

His cell was not that bad. His bed was warm, his cellmate kept his mouth shut, and he had a hole to shit in. The walls were covered with carvings, which captivated Eric. He wondered how many stories the carvings told, as he looked at all of the names forever imprinted in the concrete walls.

He flopped onto his bed.

It was over. It was over for Eric Forman because even he didn't see himself deserving of anything better than what he was dealing with. He dealt with the excruciating lurches of his stomach, the vomiting, the taunting of prisoners and guards, the feeling of _fucking worthlessness._ He did it by not only accepting it, but welcoming it with open arms. What else should've happened? Should he have been left alone? Maybe a pat on the back by the policeman and a "okay, one more chance, just don't do it again!" would suffice. _Fucking right_, he scoffed.

He sat his still lanky body up and rubbed his eyes roughly. More than any physical change, he had grown colder. He had no reason to smile. He had no memories to hold onto, because he was just reminded of how he fucked those up. He had no feelings but regret. His emotional pain was general-he no longer pinpointed his agony to one reason. It was everything. It was every breakup with Donna to every fucking time the word _rape _screeched through his mind and made a devastating halt. Every jerk at his emotional health was sure as hell present.

He had a lawyer. He remembered how he was so desperate to get one when he was first jailed. Now, it was worthless. He wanted to stay in jail.

Because of _her. _

Jackie Burkhart. A heartbreaker in ways that he would never be able to explain to anyone. His nightmares, his dreams, his daydreams revolved around her. Around what she was...around what she used to be.

He shivered. No one had even paid for his bond. Not his parents, not his ex-girlfriend. He had received no phone calls, no letters, no visits other than from his lawyer.

He was truly alone.

But, of course, this is where the story only begins.

* * *

_"Jojo was a man who thought he was a loner, but he knew it wouldn't last. Jojo left his home in Tucson, Arizona, for some California grass."_

He shoved his rough fingers against the _off _button of his radio. _Get Back _by The Beatles did not seem to fit his mood at the moment, or any mood he had been feeling lately.

He ran his fingers through his curly hair, remembering the days where it was music, drugs, and sex. Now all three brought memories that he did not care to ever think of again.

Who was he, Steven Hyde, nowadays? Other than being twice the douchebag he had been, he was three times as broken.

"Christ," he muttered, as he swerved his car way from another damn moronic driver on the road. He flicked the fucker off and got off the freeway.

He was heading towards his apartment, where Jackie was either a) sleeping or b)sitting on their bed chewing on her nails.

He had begun to hate her habit of chewing her nails with an inflamed passion. It represented her downfall as a woman and a human being: she used to cry if she chipped a nail, now she was violently tearing the little things off her fingers.

Things weren't peachy keen in the life of Mr. and Mrs. Smith nowadays. He drank, she cried. They both went to bed angry. _All in a day's work. _

Speaking of work, that was also down the drain. Being the boss's kid had it's upsides, but being lazy and refusing to show up at all was _not _something W.B was fond of. Steven was close to losing his job, not like it mattered.

His group's little stint of trying to gain justice for Jackie did not strengthen their relationship. Instead, it had torn them all down to filthy, exhausted little pieces that would take a hell of a lot of effort to unite.

He and Donna acted as impassive acquaintances, barely nodding at each other when they did see each other. Kelso spent time with his cop buddies in Point Place, and Fez had found a girl to screw for a while. Both Kelso and Fez phoned Jackie frequently, asking if she needed anything. She never answered, but would smile bitterly when she listened to their messages on the answering machine declaring their commitment to helping her in any way possible.

Hyde and Jackie were damaged the worst in regards to relationship. They never had sex, barely talked, and were on the brink of breaking up.

Even Mr. and Mrs. Forman were acting different, although together they remained united, as they had always been. Hyde guessed that it would be pretty fucking hard to find out that your son raped a girl, let alone a girl you who loved like a daughter.

Forman. Asshole was where he belonged. Sometimes, he wondered if he should be there, too. Along with his friends. They're the ones that fucked up initially anyway.

Surprisingly, Forman never told authorities that he was drugged, not even his lawyer. This piece of knowledge bemused the curly-haired young man, though he figured that it was to keep the three guys out of trouble.

* * *

He held her in his arms as they lay on their bed. She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed in his musky scent, a smell she knew oh so well. He sighed into her hair and rubbed her back. He blinked a few times, feeling anxiety in his chest as he thought deeply about the news he and his wife just heard: Eric Forman's trial was in three days.

How would he be able to handle the next week? What would he do during the trial? Would he go and watch the trial? He scoffed at the thought. 'What am I gonna do there, be gonna be a damn cheerleader?'

As he continued to rub Kitty Forman's back, Red Forman felt a shiver run down his back as he questioned who exactly he would be rooting for.

* * *

Jackie flipped through a magazine with a smile on her face. Liberachi was soooooo gay. Wasn't obvious to the pop culture world? She closed the magazine and ran a finger through her dry, stringy hair. She lied in bed with baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt on. It was 3 o'clock and she hadn't even showered, brushed her teeth, or put on makeup.

Their apartment was a mess, and she scolded herself in disgust at the life she was living. She doubted Steven even found her attractive anymore.

Speak of the devil, she heard the door open. "Steven?" she called out.

She heard more footsteps and the slam of the door as she listened to his reply. "Nope. I'm robbing the place." Sarcasm. Lovely. Jackie rolled her eyes. He thought he was so funny.

He walked into the room. She examined him. He has grown a beard. He was wearing ratty old jeans and a Grateful Dead t-shirt. His eyes glanced at her cooly and he nodded to her direction as he grabbed a towel from behind the door. "I"m gonna take a shower."

She kept regarding him, the way he walked like he knew what he was doing, how he talked with such confidence. She kind of resented him. She knew it was not rational, however.

She was only angry because she knew she would never be able to give him love. Or a family.

He got into the shower. Jackie leaned her head back against the headboard and reached for the phone, impulsively dialing the number she had been wanting to punch in for the last few days.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

"Jackie?"

She smiled. "I miss you."

Jackie waited for a response, there was none.

She coughed. "It's not your fault. It never was. I get it now." She fluffed her raven hair, examining it between her tiny little fingers. "I miss you. And I need you to support me. Come over."

There was another pause. "Yeah, I figured we need to talk."

Jackie coolly responded with disinterest. "Mhm."

"I'll be over soon."

"Okay. And, listen..." She took a breath. "I forgive you, Donna."

Donna kept her voice level, trying to hide the wariness from Jackie as tears brimmed her eyes. She mumbled an okay and slammed the phone on the receiver, images of skin on skin and hands in curly hair filled her head. _I'm a bitch._

* * *

His cellmate was a fucking weirdo. He kept quiet most of the time, and cried a lot. Pussy.

But he had to wonder how much he really knew what was going on in this Eric kid's life, as his finger ran across a carving on the wall that said "Donna Pinciotti."

He scoffed. Kid was probably missing his bitch.

* * *

**Please tell me what you thought of the first chapter in a review! I love hearing feedback, good or bad. Hope you guys liked it!**


	2. Bad Blood

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own That '70s Show or it's characters. K?**

**Rating: T for language**

**Chapter two is named after the song "Bad Blood," by Neil Sedaka.**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

She reached a pale hand towards the door handle, then pulled it back. She couldn't just walk into their apartment, could she? She paused, then knocked on the door. No, not anymore.

She heard a slow, lazy walk to the downstairs area entrance of Jackie and Hyde's apartment. She tugged at her red hair until the door opened. In front of her was Hyde.

He had his signature aviator shades on, and his eyebrow lifted slightly from underneath them as he examined Donna. His Grateful Dead t-shirt hung from his broad shoulders on top of a pair of faded jeans. He was wearing socks. He scratched his beard.

_"Hyde, we can't tell Jackie about this." Donna pulled the covers over her and scooted away from Hyde. _

His jaw twitched to the side and stepped back, letting her in. Donna kept her eyes slightly downcast as she mumbled, "Jackie asked me to come over."

He tried to hide his bemused expression. He cleared his throat. "Sure."

He waved his hand, leading her upstairs into the bedroom. "Be careful, it's hibernating season." He flashed her a sly grin that she hadn't seen in a while, and Donna felt a brief pang of resentment towards Hyde's words. 'Yeah, being a smartass is the way to go right now,' she thought.

Hyde opened the door, and there sat Jackie on the bed. Donna hadn't seen her for a few weeks, and God, she looked horrible. She wore no makeup, and her hair fell down in stringy pieces. She was wearing a pair of grey sweats, no doubt Hyde's, from how big they looked on her. Then, she noticed the flower on the waistband and realized that the sweat's _were_ Jackie's...Donna shuddered internally as she realized Jackie's extreme weight loss.

Jackie looked up and gave a small smile to Donna, and patted the side of the bed. Hyde stood in the doorway until Jackie gave him a pointed stare.

He glared at her. "Despite how much you really want me to be here, Jacks, I'll see you guys later." He gave another signature smirk and walked out.

Donna made her way to the bed. Jackie's attempt at patching things up felt refreshing...her unnatural and no doubt fake façade of being happy was weird and awkward.

Jackie watched Donna as she plopped on the bed. Donna eyed the TV. "You guys got cable, huh? Impressive."

Jackie gave Donna a smile. "How's life in Point Place?"

"Jackie, you live in Point Place."

Jackie giggled. "Oh yeah!"

Donna smiled as she heard Jackie's laugh, but it made her feel uneasy. She couldn't keep pretending that everything was normal.

"Wanna go shopping? Lorde and Taylor has a huge blowout sale and I know I'll look good in everything there." Jackie grinned.

Donna examined Jackie closely. Yeah, she _sounded _like the old Jackie. But there wasn't the same light in her eyes, the pompous fluff of her hair. Donna sighed. She needed to be blunt.

"Jackie, I know you want to start over." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "But pretending nothing happened between us...between you and Eric...none of that is going to help."

Pretending? Oh, right, because she was _soooo _good at avoiding that.

Jackie paused. "Do you think I really want to talk about what's been happening, Donna?" She kept her forceful stare for a few seconds. "Do you?"

Donna felt a shudder down her back as she thought about this new, resentful Jackie, angry at the whole world and not caring about anything.

"None of us want to talk about it." Her eyes filled with tears and she took a shaky breath. 'She deserves to know.'

Jackie frowned. "Why are you crying?" The question was simple, but caused more pain in Donna. Why the fuck _was _she crying? After all the reasons Jackie had to cry, and didn't. Yet here Donna was, blubbering like an idiot.

Her voice was shaken and unsure. "I need to tell you something, Jackie." She wiped her face with a sleeve and suddenly sat up straight, determined.

"There...was a time when I was mad at a lot of people. I still have a lot of things in me right now, but, back then, the feelings were so..." Donna squinted. "Hateful."

"I hated Eric for what he did for you. I hated you for blaming me. I hated myself because I knew you had a right to blame me. And it just...felt so right."

Jackie asked in a quiet voice, "What felt right?"

Donna swallowed the huge lump in her throat. She looked Jackie in the eyes, and a tear escaped from her own. She had never hated anything more than that drop of water in her life.

Blue eyes met mismatched ones. The eyes had met countless times before, yet never like this.

"Having sex with Hyde."

Jackie was silent. Then, after a few seconds, as if her reaction time was slowed, her breath hitched softly. She slowly looked away from Donna with her eyes wide. She did not cry.

She was silent, and the only sound in the room that could be heard was Jackie's slow, controlled breaths. Donna sat, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Finally.

"Get out." Her voice was weak.

Donna opened her mouth to speak.

"Get out!" Jackie started sobbing. "Get out." She jumped off the bed and motioned Donna. "Come on, get out." She cried and her voice was soft and haunting, like a three year old asking a dead mother to wake up.

Donna got off the bed. She looked at Jackie as her vision blurred with tears. When she opened the door, Hyde was standing near it, looking perplexed. Jackie slammed her bedroom door shut behind Donna, not before Hyde saw her sobbing.

Hyde looked between the bedroom door and Donna descending down the stairs. He had a choice to make.

He made the right one.

He swiftly strode towards the door, and found it locked. He rested his head on the door. "Jackie?" He knocked softly.

She wasn't answering. He threw his hands in the air and walked to the kitchenette, where he found a screwdriver. "You want it, you got it, babe," he mumbled under his breath.

He went back to the door and shimmied with the lock until it unlocked. As he opened the door, he saw a lump under the covers.

He sighed softly and went towards her. He gently pulled the comforter down. "What's the matter?" he whispered.

She looked up at him. "Nothing." She kept her eyes locked on his, thinking of swaying at Valentine's Day dances, used Led Zeppelin t-shirts, hot sweaty Sunday mornings in bed. She closed her eyes.

Keeping her voice cold and controlled, she whispered, "I want to be alone."

Hyde moved his hand from her shoulder, and gave her what she wanted.

* * *

_May 25th, 1976: Point Place, Wisconsin_

_"Bad, bad! Blood, blood! Is takin' you for a ride!" Kitty Forman danced and sung in her car as she drove Eric home from their long day at the hospital for Career Day. Kitty had seen sickness, depression, even death, and would continue to until the day she retired. And yet nothing would ever make her unhappy. _

_"The only good thing about bad blood's lettin' it sliiiiiide!" The music filled the car loudly._

_Eric looked at his mother, perplexed. How could his mom be so carefree? After the pure horror he had just witnessed? After watching someone he was just talking to die? The look on his face was one of absolute terror: from both the traumatic things he saw today and his mother's horrible singing. _

_"Mom, how do you do this every day? You're always running around and people are sick and dying and..." He sighed, awkwardly thrusting his hands in the air like the lanky boy he was. He watched his mom as she went through the 'Doo-run, doo-run, doo-doo-doo-doo-run-run's. "And, I mean, poor Mr. Anderson. Look, you KNEW this guy, Mom! How do you deal with all this?" His questioned was answered as his mom pointed at him._

_"Here we go now!" She yelled as the chorus hit again. "Bad!" She pointed at Eric again._

_"Bad!" _

_"Blood!" _

_"Blood!"_

_"The bitch is in her smile!" They now sang in unison, as Eric gradually acquired a smile on his face. "The lie is on her lips, such an evil chiiiiiild!"_

Such an evil chiiiiiiiiiild.

Eric, sweaty and frightened, woke with a start as he saw his lawyer in front of his cell. The guard opened the door and the lawyer walked in. He was middle-aged, with brown balding hair and black, beady eyes. He wasn't phased by Eric's lack of determination for his upcoming trial, and this annoyed the fuck out of the younger man.

The lawyer shook Eric's flimsy hand. "Three days, man. Three days. You ready?"

Eric shrugged. "Guess so."

"You're going through the list of points I gave you? Witnesses?"

Eric lied. "Yep."

"Good. Now when were you going to tell me that you were drugged?"

Eric looked in bewilderment at his lawyer. _No way. No fucking way._ Someone told the lawyer about the PCP. 

"Who told you?"

"The druggers." He smirked in self-satisfaction as he walked towards the cell door. _What? _ "Your friends are good people, Mr. Forman."

What? No...it's not possible. It couldn't be. "Are they going to be in court?" Eric asked nervously.

"I would hope so. They've all written their own statements, and we also have witnesses to the event."

"Who wrote the statements? I want to make sure you're not totally brain-fucked right now."

The lawyer grinned again. "A Mr. Michael Kelso, a man who insists we call him Fed...or was it Fez?...and a Mr. Steven Hyde."

Eric shook his head. No...no, no, no.

The lawyer was about to be let out but stopped himself, his voice low. "Why wouldn't you tell me this?"

Eric closed his eyes. "Because I don't deserve to get out of here."

* * *

Kelso opened the fridge in the Formans' kitchen. "Why isn't Hyde answering his phone? I mean I can't write this whole statement thing by myself!"

Fez furrowed his eyebrows at the paper in front of him. "How do you spell 'whore'?"

Kelso chugged the beer. "He can't do something like this and then chicken out."

"Do what?" Red Forman appeared, displeased by the young adults in his kitchen.

"Release a statement for Eric's trial."

"What?"

"We're telling the authorities that we drugged Eric. It's only fair." Red quivered in shock.

"Do you dumbasses know what you're getting into? You could be arrested! And you! Especially, you, you apparent 'police officer.' You could lose your damn job! You're helping Eric when he doesn't need any!" He gaped at the two boys in disbelief. Eric would be let out, no doubt.

"Red, it was not his fault." Fez looked at Red in fear.

Red slammed a drawer shut and scoffed. He closed his eyes and rubbed them. His hands pulled back against his hair and he breathed deeply. "Not his fault. What a piece of shit." He stalked out of the room, not able to see from the fury in his eyes.

* * *

Hyde opened his eyes and looked at the clock. Jesus, it was 5 o'clock. Where did the day go?

All of his off days were being shot to hell with beer and sleep. He used to love it, but he was growing sick of it, quick. His eyes flicked to the door of their bedroom, still shut.

He groaned as he sat up, rubbing his sore muscles. Itching his beard, he slowly made his way to the door. Testing it and seeing it was unlocked, he opened it.

Jackie's head whipped to the side to look at him as she placed her last piece of clothing in her purple suitcase.

Hyde's heart dropped. She was packing. She definitely wasn't going on a fuckin' vacation anytime soon.

Was this it? She wasn't going to try with him anymore?

He remained Zen. She wouldn't leave him. Not the way that she was, the way _he _was. "Where ya going?" he asked casually.

Jackie's eyes pierced through his, and said what Hyde feared more than anything in the world. "I can't be with you anymore."

Hyde flinched, as if the words caught him off guard. His heart shattered into a million pieces. He gave her the world, at least, his world. That was the best thing he could offer anyone. And he gave it whole-heartedly to Jackie.

"Jackie." He whispered her name, feeling the way it felt on his tongue. "You don't have to do this."

She laughed a little too loudly. "Believe me, I do."

His jaw tensed as he gritted his teeth. He got it, she was raped. It was horrible. He knew. But it wasn't his fault. He needed her. He needed to be with her.

"Why?" He finally managed to ask. His throat was dry.

Jackie smiled bitterly and stood up, coming face to face with her now ex-boyfriend.

"Because I hate you, Steven Hyde. I hate you and I don't love you anymore. I will never feel anything for you again. You are a sick bastard." Venom leaked in her voice as it trembled. The words hurt her to say. But he deserved them. She hoped to never lay eyes on such a disgusting, inconsiderate creature again. She truly hated him.

"What the fuck did I do?"

Jackie scoffed, this time bringing tears into her eyes. She whispered, softly, "Ask Donna."

It was at that point he knew. And it was at that point that he stood as she gathered her belongings and left him.

She left him like everyone else in his life, and all he could do was stand and shut the door behind her.

He always told himself he would never let a girl affect him. He kept remembering this as he threw up in the toilet of his empty apartment.

* * *

**Please give me your feedback on the story! It would make my day!**


	3. Every Man is Not the Same

**DISCLAIMER: The show would be different if I owned it or its characters. **

**Rating: T for language and mention of rape. **

**Chapter 3 is based on the lyrics from the song "Understanding Woman" by Elton John.**

**I promise there will be a saucy sex scene sooooooooon. ; ) **

**Hope you like it!**

* * *

"Where is she?"

"Well hello to you too, Steven! Someone sounds a little grumpy today. Do you need your laundry done? And did you get those pants dry-cleaned like I told you? Those corduroys aren't going to last very long if you don't take care of them, mister!" Kitty Forman talked on the phone rapidly to her surrogate son as she chopped up the salad for dinner.

Hyde sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah, Mrs. Forman. I'll get to it, 'kay? Where's Jackie?" As he leaned on the wall, he fingered the phone cord and examined his fingernails in the sanctity of their apartment.

_His _apartment, now.

"I'm not sure, honey. She's not over here. Did she say she was coming?"

Hyde slammed at the wall and ran his hand over his mouth, trying to stay calm and quiet as to not worry Kitty. His whole body tensed as he closed his eyes. "No. I was just...checking. Lemme know if she comes over, Mrs. Forman, will you?"

Kitty set her knife down and paused. "Is everything okay with you two?"

"Yeah, yeah. Keep a lookout, huh? I'll talk to you later, Mrs. F." He hung up the phone, rubbing the heels of his hands into his tired eyes. He needed to talk to her.

"That son of a bitch! He's lying through his teeth!"

Kitty stopped and gave a disapproving look. "Jackie, you are way too young to be using those kinds of words."

* * *

Hyde pulled the El Camino up to the Point Place Police station. He parked and rested his muscular arms on the steering wheel. He tugged at his t-shirt, loosening it up from his neck, and sighed.

He was not one to worry, but he needed to talk to Jackie. _You need_ her.

He made a mistake. He was admitting it, okay? He was going through the whole shebang that plagued him after he slept with that nurse. The regret, the pang of guilt, the anger at his stupid self...it was all coming back. And he was sorry. Fucking sorry.

He leaned back in his seat. _You are the truest of all assholes. _How could he sleep with Donna? What the fuck was he thinking? She wasn't ever meant to be someone he screwed...he had realized that a long, long time ago...as early as in 12th grade. Donna was more of a sister...a boyish yet hot, responsible, older sister. He shuddered at the thought.

He had acted on his impulse and fucked not only his girlfriend's best friend, but his best friend's girlfriend.

Ex-best friend.

What the hell was he thinking? Jackie was...everything. She made him happy, satisfied. He was calm with her, quiet, _content. _

_And he threw it all away. _

He was getting too emotional. "Get a hold of yourself, princess."

Hyde got out of the car and walked to the entrance. Inside, he found an obnoxious blonde who was chewing gum even more obnoxiously behind a big grey reception desk.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a monotone voice, which was frequently interrupted by the constant chomps of her bubble gum.

He rolled his eyes at her obvious disinterest, and matched it with his own. "Let's see if you can. Officer Kelso."

"Busy," the blonde replied, not even looking at her computer to see if Kelso was on patrol.

Hyde took his hands out of his pockets. "My bad, I couldn't hear you over that huge lump of sugar in your mouth. Get me Kelso."

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to..."

"Hyde, my man!" Kelso shouted enthusiastically. He walked over to the shorter man and clapped him on his back, making Hyde scowl and punch the dark-haired man on the shoulder. Kelso gave him a dirty look as he rubbed his arm.

The blonde sneered in disgust and went back to work. "What are you doing here, buddy?" Kelso asked.

"Oh, just chatting with all the lovely ladies here," Hyde said as sarcasm dripped from his voice. The blonde eyed him with hostility. "Have you talked to Jackie lately?"

"No." Kelso looked around distractedly with his hands in his pockets. "Listen, Hyde. Where have you been? I'm making Brooke mad with all the phone calls I keep making to your house. Me and Fez need help with this statement thing."

Hyde wrote a quick statement and shoved it in his nightstand, letting time make a decision for him. Did he want to go to jail? No. Did he feel he had to? Hell yeah. It was a decision he never told Jackie about, but one day, he opened his nightstand and found the piece of paper how he left it, folded up neatly, except with very obvious crinkles in it. It had been crumpled up. He had a pretty strong guess as to who it was.

The decision had haunted him for a few days: if he made a statement, he would no longer feign innocence, which was something he had done all his life (except when he fucked up with Jackie). That shitty piece of paper would define his life, and would make him come face to face with his stupid mistake. Sure, he was only the brainstormer that day: Kelso was the only one who took action with his practical joke. But he knew from those cop shows that he would be in trouble if he admitted to his screw-up.

If he didn't make a statement, he would have to walk around for the rest of his life with guilt over him, knowing that _he was the one who caused this._ He did _this_ to _his girlfriend_. Fucked up her life. And he was walking free for it, if he didn't fess up.

Which he would. Steven Hyde would, figuratively speaking, get down on his knees and cry for mercy from the fucking government.

He felt like a little bitch, a fucking saint. And it bugged him.

"Are you stupid?" Hyde paused. "Don't answer, I already got it," Hyde put his hand up, silencing Kelso before the words came out of Kelso's open mouth. "Just tell them what happened."

"That's the thing, I don't remember, man! I thought I gave him 2 shots, I gave him a bunch more. Forman took the drink and I went to go make out with Annie Martin."

"Then say that, moron!" Hyde gritted his teeth in frustration. "Listen, keep your eyes peeled for Jackie. And if you see her, tell her I need to talk to her."

Kelso held his hands up defensively. "Okay, okay, I got it. Jeez, Hyde, sometimes you can be such a hard ass."

Hyde glared at him from behind his shades. "Just get it done."

A female officer walked past the two men and Kelso's face lit up. "Hey, Saucy Sarah!" The female officer turned around and frogged Kelso on the arm. "Ow!"

"One, I told you not to call me that. Two, I told you not to talk to me, period. Three, I'm a lesbian. Fuck off."

Kelso pouted as Hyde snickered. "See you later, officer." He walked out and his thoughts ran back to Jackie.

He sighed. "Jackie."

* * *

Fez stood in the mirror. He looked at himself grimly as his shaky hand held a worn out paper. His suit was old; it was one that he never wore.

He looked in his eyes and found tears brimming in them.

"Hello, handsome."

He recited his statement in his accent-ridden English. His voice was shaky, but it came out smoothly enough from all the times he had read the paper. The foreigner's stomach lurched at the thought of what a tiny piece of paper could do to his life forever.

As Fez recalled the events of that terrible, terrible day, his thoughts went back to his homeland. What would his mama think of him? His papa?

He squeezed his face in a sorrowful sign of frustration as he cried. Jackie...his Jackie. Eric. They filled his mind and haunted it.

The Hub, shooting hoops in the driveway, dinner at the Forman's, birthdays in the basement, the memories _killed him. _

_KILLED HIM. _

Fez gave a shaky sigh and looked at his watch. Time to go. He looked around his bedroom in his apartment, searching for cufflinks. As he rummaged through his barely used nightstand, he came across a dress.

Immediately images of five best friends laughing around him filled his head, as he reminisced the days when they would dress him in that same dress when he was drunk.

He closed his eyes. "Good day."

* * *

Mr. Bernstein was a great defense attorney. He was intelligent, likeable, and one of the best lawyers at his firm. He graduated at the top of his class, for God's sake.

But what made him stand out from the rest of the lawyers in the firm was his ability to read his clients like a book. Guilty, or not guilty? He knew the answer to the question the second the client walked through the door into his tiny office. He didn't even have to hear the client's story before he knew whether that person was a criminal, or an innocent human being trying to get life back to normal.

If the client was guilty, Mr. Bernstein would send the client to another lawyer. He couldn't take the guilt of helping a criminal.

He saw it time and time again. The guilty ones had no hope. The guilt they felt overcame them, and they thus made no effort. Additionally, they always admitted to their crime at one point or another. Always.

The innocent ones were determined. They were scared, but hopeful. They had light in their eyes.

And this is what made Eric Forman different from the rest.

This Forman kid was still young. The guy had a whole life ahead of him, and yet he was hopeless. The kid barely told him his version of the story. Initially, Mr. Bernstein assumed that Eric was guilty.

But when the kid walked into his office with his messy brown hair and his hazel eyes, and Mr. Bernstein saw that light in his eyes, the light that he only saw when someone was falsely accused...he second guessed himself. Eric Forman had thus been one of the most complex characters Mr. Bernstein has ever dealt with, and he had dealt with Eric on tiptoes...not knowing whether Eric was guilty or not.

A phone call from Michael Kelso confirmed Mr. Bernstein's theory:

Eric Forman was guilty...and innocent.

Mr. Kelso was as dumb as a rock, but he impressed the hell out of the older lawyer. When Mr. Bernstein had picked up the phone, he heard a shaky breath that cut right to the chase. Michael gave him the whole story. The PCP in his drink, the rape. He dragged on an on about their stupid basement and how they were all brothers and sisters, then eventually continued to go one about some girl he hooked up with for the rest of the night.

Mr. Bernstein had to stop Michael there, but even he couldn't keep himself professional as he asked the younger gentleman why the hell he would rat himself out. What Mr. Kelso answered did not make that much sense to Mr. Bernstein, but he was sure it was meaningful:

"I need things back to how they used to be."

Kelso assured him that he and his two other friends were going to give a statement, and he had plenty of witnesses to the act.

The kid was a police officer, loved what he did, but it seemed that he loved that awkward boy more than his job. Kelso knew he would be suspended and probably fired once the court heard his statement; the kid and his dumb ass friends would probably get charged themselves once the trial was over, as long as they were writing what they said they would.

It was good for Mr. Bernstein, because he was positive he would be getting a good pay out once he kicked ass on this trial. Although he was only an attorney who defended folks who didn't pay for a lawyer themselves, he was excelling much more than his co-workers, and made the most of all of them.

It sucked for Mr. Forman, because he not only expected, but wanted to rot in jail.

The story amazed Mr. Bernstein. It was tragic really.

He sighed, and closed his briefcase. He'd get over it.

* * *

_June 21, 1976: Point Place, Wisconsin_

_The driveway is grey. The car parked in it is a yellowish-green color, one might humorously say the color of vomit. However, it holds some of the fondest memories of young adults who hadn't even experienced most of life yet. The porch lights illuminate the driveway, and the basketball hoop is planted firmly into the concrete. This hoop has been the instigator of long, sweaty games; laughter; injuries; arguments; memories. It is still in it's early stages-fast-forward 5 years and the pole will be worn, the net almost completely torn._

_Dead, one could say._

_A boy and a girl stand in this very driveway in front of the porch. The girl is young, tall, and beautiful, with gorgeous red hair that flows to the middle of her back. She is nervous. But she is happy. She is free. _

_The boy is young, too. He is lean, and bent, like a straw. His eyes have light. He is nervous. But he is happy. He is free. _

_They are hope. _

_The boy sticks out his hand. "Hey, um, do you recall the night we crossed the Rio Grande?" He is telling a joke. He hopes it works. _

_The girl is a smart one. But she does not understand. "What?"_

_"I can see it in your eyes." His voice is monotone. He is begging himself to pull the joke off. He will do anything to hear her laugh. Anything._

_"What are you talking about?"_

_He finishes the song lyric, but this time, continues in actual melody. "How proud you were to fight for freedom in this land!" _

_She understands. He is singing a song._

_ She tries to hide the smile from her face. "Shut up. Don't...don't. Don't!" _

_He does._

_He begins to sing. "There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando!"_

_He dances as she screams, "Don't!" Her smile is the best reward. Her hand covers his lips, and they tingle. He stops. _

_"I'm sorry." He is awkward. "I, uh, hate dance music."_

_She feigns confusion. "Why'd you go?" She pleads internally as she asks him why he went with her to the disco that night. 'Let it be me. Let it be for me.' _

_"I like...you." And at this moment, they are one, as their hearts flutter and beat at the same pace. _

_She is even more nervous now. She tries a joke. "So...you'__re in like with me?" _

_"Donna...I'm..." He kisses her. If she only knew. _

_She begins to sing the same song he sung earlier. She is free. He is free. _

_They are hope. _

_They dance. _

_Fernando plays in their minds. The moment is forgettable. It is nothing. And yet, it is at this moment, for the first time in their young lives, that they know what love is._

Donna shuddered, and the feeling made her sick to her young stomach.

"All rise. Department One of the Wisconsin Superior Court is now in session. Judge Trevylan presiding. Please be seated."

Donna fingered her dress.

There was no such thing as hope.

* * *

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